A Deep Commitment to Purple
by Jaguarette2
Summary: "Looking for someone who enjoys gunshows and a quiet night out. Must not have problems dating a girl, who cannot disclose any details about her profesional life. Would be nice if you also worked 364 days out of the year. Now that I'm writing this out I start to think that this person doesn't exist."
1. Chapter 1

Maybe she should have returned to her flat. The queue was winding down the overcrowded alley. The place was jam- packed with other to-be viewers, cars and various stalls, offering anything from bazookas shaped candies to a wide range of firearms, some of which look suspiciously similar to those sold by . The headache-inducing stall owners' shrieks, children' squeaks of joy or pain of being trodden to death and desperate calling of lost members of WWI veteran's trip was starting to grow on her. The event was supposed to be a nicety, a star turn of her free day. It was supposed to be spent with friends.

They were laughing their heads off in a small, unpretentious café, walls taped with film posters and old cameras carefully placed in small cabinets. A forty-something entrepreneur watched them with contempt from behind his _Times_.

"We must do it more often." A chubby blonde still tried to constrict her laughter. "Hell, when we had a proper chat last time, girl?"

" I think it was half and a year ago."

"And before it was a year, and even before that seven months and before this before I managed to see you every other week!"

" I never thought you would keep such close track of our meetings. The accounting got to you, didn't it?"

"You know what I'm talking about. This job is messing with your life too much!"

If only there was any life left. Here she was, sitting with one of her best friends during her one and only free day in the year. Wrong: her best friend. The other girl couldn't come, or more likely didn't bother to meet with someone, who wouldn't have time to call more often than twice a year.

"Yes, but you know the hag: she would rather eat Saxon's hat than give somebody vacation."

"Oh, I'm sure, that when it comes to Mr. Hale, she would eat something else of his."

They roared with laughter again and a businessman shot them another dirty glance.

"Then change a job, plain and simple. Jump at new opportunities as they say."

"And begin everything from the scratch?"

"Well, it's not like you can get promoted any further, eh?"

She let out a small sight. She thought about this couple of times before and always came to same conclusion: if she handed in her resignation, she could only do worse. Every other company was an underdog. There were only two types, really: the ones that were secretly part of TF industries or the ones soon to go under. That is to say, if she was allowed to leave.

Working for the ones at the top has its consequences.

"Sarah, I don't think I would get another job easily." She brushed her friend's remark off. "The hag would have her revenge and she's got connections."

"Well, then I'm happy I don't get involved with big and powerful of this world, so nobody will have nothing against me leaving"

"What?"

"I'm getting married, Pauling! I'm gonna be Tony's wife this time next month and you would be my bridesmaid." Sarah announced. "And don't you dare to give me this speech about one free day in the year. The marriage will only take twenty minutes, wedding will be up in five hours, but you don't have to stay that long. Let's say… three hours maximum. You gotta dance and eat the cake, girl!"

"Uh huh. How am I to account for myself for this three hours? I have approximately eleven hours daily to myself and that is, if nothing turns up." She looked at her lap, dejected.

"I think you will earn a new ability, something to write down in your CV."

"What?!"

" Ability to delegate. Use that secretary Marigold, she will do. Some new experience she so clearly needs." Answered her colleague with a devious smirk.

Oh yes, she thought when a mischievous smile curled on her lips. Secretary Marigold, the first to leave the office and the first to boast about not-so-her-own achievements. She also had this peculiar effect on male coworkers. The woman wasn't even this pretty, what did they see in her?

"Now that you are sure to come, who are you gonna bring?" Her friend's question brought her back to reality.

"What do you mean? You know very well there is nobody! I don't have time to go out and meet people!" She exclaimed, all her good mood dissipating into thin air.

"Well, you better bring somebody, as cousin Derek is coming. He won't miss the chance to woo any single female younger than fifty who doesn't have a bodyguard and even that is questionable." Sarah stated. The blonde gave her a threatening look. "Don't you even think about shooting him."

"Well then, I'll have to comply to his earthly demands, as there is no way in hell I would have a date for your wedding."

"What about TF employees?"

"They're all too scared to even as much as look at my shoes, a mere thought about asking me out could probably cause them a heart attack."

"Not these sissies!" Her friend frowned. "I'm talking about the killer ones." Sarah saw her friend tighten. "Oh, stop looking at me, as if you had to knocked me off! Everyone above level five knows about this. What other reason is there for shipping weapons to theses old spy bases? And I saw some of them on my floor. Rifles and rocket-launchers are kinda tell-away. "

"They are all crazed gunmen!"

"And who isn't? I mean, Saxton Hale would not be the fifth richest guy in the world if he didn't make a killing on his stuff." It seemed that Sarah's low position and lack of promotions was arguably undeserved." I saw the pics, some of these psychopaths are downright hot."

Her companion stared at her friend with a newfound horror. Was she talking about Team Fortress? The piss smelling, insults shouting, crooked teeth, huge jaws and even bigger hands pack of madmen? Not to mention all of them at least twenty years older than her, save for one twenty-something who behaved like a kindergartner. Who in their right mind would find these men attractive? She felt need to correct her colleague. "First of all, Mr. Hale is fourth wealthiest men now, second he also sells hats, clothes and portable baccarat detectors." She saw the blonde rolling her eyes and clenched her fists. "Third, for your information, I have watched the lot for two and a half year now and there isn't anything charming or at least tolerable about them!"

"Well," her friend stirred from her chair "speaking of crazed gunwomen, I can't go with you, after all. Sorry." The woman averted her gaze. "I'm choosing the dress today."

Moving at a snail pace, she clenched her ticket and wished everything would end soon. When she thought it wasn't possible to be any worse, she heard somebody shouting.

She truly shouldn't have came.

"Yo, Miss Pauling!"

He would not get here. The street was packed, nobody can do as much as move a finger. He couldn't get here, he was just some very obnoxious person somewhere in the street, separated from her by a crowd of manly men waiting for a gun show.

"Miss P., whatcha doing in such a place alone? You need somebody, eh? I mean me, yes? Yes? Yes? Yes?"

"Good evening, Scout."

And there he was, standing just next to her. The crowd moved faster and she was pulled into the building. However, she didn't lose the boy.

"So you like gun shows, yeah? Girl, I love them. Really devoted to whole gun thing, but you know this already, don't ya? But never thought I 'll meet ya here, gal! Where are we going to sit?"

"I am not sitting with you, Scout. Actually, I'm waiting for someone"

"Your friend? I mean, it must be your friend. You can tell her I'm your boyfriend, okay? Don't have to mention we know each other from work, all this secrecy and hush hush."

She would strangle him any minute now and she wouldn't even need his training bra.

"You don't mind if I find us a sit. Also buy you a drink, Miss P. I mean I owe you for that time with a bomb and such." He added much more quietly.

"You don't need to that Scout, it's a part of my work to keep all of you in line."

"Nononono, don't cha try to downplay whatcha did, Miss P.! I know you did it this 'cos you like me so much, I know ya can't help it, but you know you could use a drink, you look kind of drained, but you are a killer girl as always, I mean. "

Maybe sitting with Scout is better than sitting alone actually.

"I don't think…"

"Oh come on, Miss P. Nobody's coming"

She felt a big lump of ice in her stomach. How could he tell? She gulped and tried to say something, when she felt someone touching her shoulder.

"I doubt that Miss is interested in your sorry advances, pal." She tensed s bit when a slim stranger wearing almond suit embraced her shoulder.

"And who are you, bustin' into when I 'm charming a lady, man?"

"Well, for starters, I'm the one she was waiting for. Isn't it?" He smiled at her.

She gave him a glance to make a quick assessment. She was looking at a sharp, handsome man. Dark haired and tanned, he reminded her of Gregory Peck. And like Peck, he was at least decade older than her. So she had to choose between him and Scout.

"Oh, yes, of course. I was starting to think you won't turn up."

Not a tough choice.

"I bet you don't even know her, jerk! Leave Miss Pauling alone!"

"Oh, and you being soo close to her, know only her second name?"

"Then what is her name, faggot, eh?"

"If she didn't think you need to know, how could I tell you?" Smirked the stranger. "Let's go, Camille." He whispered into her ear.

She flinched, and walked hand in hand with him. She turned over her shoulder and mumbled a good bye to the boy.

He led her through the crowd to one of the reserved tables. So he WAS actually coming with someone. The man looked over his shoulder to see her frown. "Don't worry, it seems my bloke won't turn up after all. I just don't want to sit alone at an empty table for everyone to stare at, simple as that." He moved back one of the chairs for her.

"How do you know my name? I am fairly sure we didn't meet." She said eyeing him carefully. She did remember seeing him somewhere, something didn't feel right. Did she know his voice or was it his face? Or maybe it was the general air of confidence and optimism surrounding the man that reminded her of someone?

"You were at one of my sister's, I mean Annie's big fancy parties. I really have amazing memory when it comes o faces and names, Camille. I'm sorry I approached you like that, but I was happy to see somebody familiar in this middle of nowhere."

It all made sense. Annie did have an older brother and she organized parties, but what was his name again? Desmond? Stephen? Jonathan? Elvin?

"How come are you here? You work for one of the firearms companies?" She asked, hoping that it will come up during conversation.

"Oh, no. I just moved here. You see, I am dabbling with predatory dental surgery. " He gleamed with pride.

It definitely wasn't Elvin.

"You mean you take care of the predator's teeth?"

"Only the most lethal ones. I used to work with big cats and gorillas mostly but I wanted to branch out a little and see what could be done with reptiles. So I heard that here, in Teufort, you dealt with alligators' infestation by filling Saxon Hale's swimming pools with them."

"Yes. Mr. Hale was very fond of the idea."

"Yea, he liked it so much he actually wanted to keep all of the little pests in his house. Unfortunately, the longer little bugger stayed under his roof, the less deadly they became. Namely, they had their skulls crashed and teeth bashed out. So, I thought: there's a man who needs my skills and has money to burn, so I contacted him and jackpot: I am hired by Mr Hale as his predatory dental surgeon. I also take care of his teeth, as there isn't much difference anyway."

"How on earth did you make him let you heal his teeth?"

It began with H, she was sure. Hugh?

"Well, when I said that no grown man should be afraid of the dentist, it pretty much went downhill from that." He chuckled.

Henry, it must be Henry.

"And tell me, how was it to put your hands in the mouth of the most dangerous man on this planet?" She asked with a gleam in her eye.

"Very heartwarming. He screamed like a little girl."

The couple at the next table looked disapprovingly at their loud neighbors. What were they laughing at for the past five minutes?

As the laughter went down, she rubbed against corner of her eyelids. It seemed that this particular evening won't go to waste after all.

"And what do you do for a living , Camille? I suppose you landed yourself somewhere good."

Her smile died on her lips." I work for the TF Industries. I am something of a personal assistant , but it is usually more than that." She sighted.

"And let me guess, your boss is some old geezer that makes passes at you." He smirked.

"My boss is a heinous, callous bitch that doesn't believe anyone apart from her is entitled to have their own opinion." She scoffed.

"Well then she surely is, as I never heard you swearing like that. But enough about work, let's talk about guns."

If only she could check if his name was Henry.

"Mister Henry Dawlight? There is a phone call for you."

Bull's-eye.

He smiled to her apologetically. "I'll be right back. Get you a drink on the way."

As he left, she couldn't help beaming. Maybe she wasn't doomed to spend her rest of her life handling those eighteen killers. Maybe there was actually someone else.

Author's note:

Okay, this is my first piece of fiction ever, so be gentle as drunken grizzlies on acid holding circular- blade saws, riding on sharks powered by piranhas with dark salmon's injustice hats (of coarse). Trying hard as I might, I'm sure there must be something wrong with spelling, or that it is perfectly predictable, or punctuations marks or something else that literature invented to kick people, who want to write something, in the butt. Also, if somebody likes canon (as much as we can talk about canon in here, I mean half of the things are actually made up by fandom and then incorporated into game), then follow it. There will be plenty.


	2. Chapter 2

Something was wrong.

As the minutes went by, she became more and more bothered by the whole situation. She couldn't shake off the uneasiness, the feeling that she overlooked something. Everything he said made sense and no matter how many times she revised whole conversation, nothing was wrong with his story. However, her gut instinct told her otherwise.

She knew him. Something about his face or posture or types of clothes he wore. She remembered him and she knew for a fact, that she would never miraculously memorize somebody, she saw during a crowded party six years ago. Somebody who aged

and got a risky job that probably cost him his tooh and involved getting injured on a daily basis. She must have remembered him from somewhere else. And somewhere else could be only her work.

"I'm back!" He arrived with two glasses. "I didn't know what you like, so I went for something …." He notice her intense stare. "Oh, I do get I am pretty handsome, but I'm not going anywhere, you don't need to print my face under you eyelids."

"Have you ever worked for TF Industries?"

He slumped to his sit, a smile sliding off his face. "I should have known better than try to beat you in your own game, eh?" he whispered with an exasperated look.

She knew everyone working beneath her but she still couldn't place his face.

"I clearly overdid it with a name, didn't I?"

There were only three people that knew her name and the men sitting in front of her was neither of them.

Wait… There were four people she worked with, that covered their faces, two of them were more than likely to sport such a well tailored suit…

"I could make zis a bit eesier, if I speek like that, oui? I would rather not, as it is exasperating to pretend to be an idiot, who can't spell diphthongs right." He pulled out a cigarette.

Holly mackerel. She almost went on date with a spy and a BLU one to boost. She wasn't sure now if the Scout would not be more preferable. At least he didn't pretend to be your acquaintance from the high school who also performed surgeries on alligators.

" What are you doing here with your mask off? And how can you have audacity to try to chat me up? This is a clear breach of your contract and you know it! You sicken me, BLU!" She hissed. She glared at his slightly annoyed display and she felt a sudden blood rush to the head. She was enraged and she had every right to. This deceitful slimy bastard tried to worm his way around her and she knew for a fact that he wasn't to be trusted. She saw the results of man's work. There was a reason Helen didn't think that sending another director to the BLU team was necessary.

"While I'm flattered you managed to tell me and my counterpart apart, I don't think I deserve your wrath."

" I am going to file a formal complain against you."

"Oh please. If you listen for a moment…"

"Why should I? I don't want to look at your face any longer." She motioned as if she wished to leave.

"First of all, I reserved this table and there is nowhere else to sit. Secondly, I do not wear my balaclava, as I just wanted a quiet night out, without looking like a really dim terrorist. I am sitting here with you, because I thought that you wished to get away from the boy, who clearly overstepped his boundaries. I may have also tried to deceive you, but only because I did not wished for anyone connected to my workplace to know how I looked like."

"You clearly overestimated yourself and your acting skills, Spy."

"More likely I underestimated you , Miss Pauling. You nearly believed my tale and I bet before that phone call you were almost sure my name is Henry."

"Wait, what? How could you know?"

"Smoke and mirrors and a bit of psychology. "

"More importantly: how could you know my name? None of you were supposed to know it!"

"Oh please, I am a spy after all. And as an exchange you know my face. I consider it more than fair."

She opened her mouth to get at him with a retort, when three gunshots torn the air.

There was still more than ten minutes till the start of the show and the bewildered expression of her companion prompted her to turn back.

"Silence people! We are here to take your money, guns and injure you a bit!"

The place was overridden with Mafia.

Author's note: What a surprise! I bet everybody expected this! Yaya for me and my unexistial twist-making skills! Also references.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, your money, guns and injuries, did I forget something back there, _Cortex_?" The tall, dim, generic villain asked his partner.

"Hostages, _Minus_. You forgot to mention hostages." Replied the smaller, more intelligent-looking one.

The woman in purple dress looked at her companion with harsh expression. "Have you got any weapons on yourself?" She asked.

"Unfortunately, no. Everything was confiscated at the entrance."  
"What kind of spy are you?"

"Off- duty."

"No more chatting! " One of the attackers moved towards their table. "Everyone put hands behind their heads and I don't see anyone trying something hilarious, or somebody may cough up blood!" He boomed at the startled audience. The thug glanced at the pair at the table. "May Abraham Lincoln fry me with his flamethrower if that isn't _Cinéaste_!"

"Good to see you too, _Bleuet_."

" How could you live through Old Nic's attack? Everyone save little _Chanceux_ was gunned down, and the lucky bastard survived only thanks to somebody who dressed him as a Smissmass tree!'

"I hid." Spy said flatly.

Suddenly, a gun fired. As the panicked shouting and murmurs silenced, one of he thugs started shouting commands.

"All ladies are to come on stage. All ladies are requested to come on stage! Full cooperation is appreciated! Or some of these lovely bachelors may not make it through the night!" As he cheerfully broadcasted his commands, he shot at the crowed and a sound of a dying Scout followed.

Miss Pauling turned to her partner. " We have to contact HQ immediately." The words died on her lips, for the chair across was distinctively devoid of BLU Spy. "Bloody spies!" She cursed under her breath. "Saving their skins first, how typical."

Somebody whispered into _Bleuet_'s ear.

"How are things going in waste management business?"

"Not so good. After you and _Ours_ left, many bad things happened. New head doesn't know a thing about leading the family. Since when Mafia attacked the civilians? But most importantly, I got broken for the whole Shekespearicles adaptation incident, which was your fault by the way, so no hard feelings." The nocent said as he reached behind him and grasped the other man's neck. After few seconds of struggling with an invisible opponent, he heard a faint whisper.

"What if I told you I was the one to dress _Chaunceux_ …rgggh…as a Smisssmass tree?"

"I would say I wanted a proof."

"Well, I could only reply that I haven't got any, save that nobody else survived and the kid had blue, crystal balls with reindeenicorns all over his branches."

The thug released his grip and a soft thud was heard

"Well now, let's talk business. I gather, you have at least one third of your forces here and at least four Capos."

"You got it right, apart from that that there are five, as young _Loup_ took after his dad."

"They grow so fast. I remember him as a five years old, pulling flies' wings!"

"And now he pulls traitor's limbs. We' re getting old, _Cinéaste_." The thug nodded.

"Say, you still wish to lead the family?"

"As much as ever."

"Well, I always liked you, _Bleuet_" was the last thing he heart as a dull object collided with his skull.

Blu mercenary had to act quick. He downloaded the look of his former coworker and moved through the crowd, shouting orders and searching for weapons. He changed his appearance to one of the lesser mafia members and was about to execute his plan of arming whole audience, himself included, when he got interrupted.

"What in bloody hell are you trying to pull, _chien_? "

Disguised Spy looked at the basket full of guns in his arms. He looked at the offending man. He looked at the gun the man was pointing at him. He decided he had enough of careful planning for this evening and just wanted to end this whole ridiculous affair as fast as possible. Without a second thought, he swiftly kicked the man in the groin and thrown the basket in the air .

"Guns for everyone!" He shouted as his disguise dissipated into blue smoke..

Luckily for him, this was Teufort and as impossible as it would seem for all of the guests to catch one of the airborne firearms, that was exactly what happened. After all, it was BLU Spy's specialty to have unqualified civilians perform his improbable plans. However, he didn't manage to grab a weapon himself.

He plunged under tables, and as the hilarity ensued, he processed to maneuver between chairs, table legs, enthusiastic civilians and annoyed or increasingly frightened attackers, to get to his primal location.

While Miss Pauling was merrily firing round after round at the mobsters, the table behind her flipped over and a tall figure gazed from beneath the tablecloth.

"By any chance, you did not happen to catch two guns, one of them being preferably a revolver?"

" Unfortunately not. You can always poke them with forks." She pulled the trigger and let out a happy squeak as the bullet hit a man directly in his socket, Moe Green Special style.

"Oh, I can do so much more with the cutlery." Spy backstabbed a bit of a Mafia who got a little too close with a blunt, dinner knife. Another body slumped to the ground. "It just spoils very fast."

"Don't worry, I can protect us both." The women smiled while taking down two more opponents.

"I do not worry. There is plenty of it and when it comes to worst, I can always stab them with my shoes. " He gushed another thug with a plate. This opponent had a really nice bowler hat and Spy couldn't help snatching it away.

"How could you kill anyone with shoes? I guess it's possible to stab somebody with high heels, but with flats? " Mused Miss Pauling as she shot a henchman in his jugular artery. Blood spurted on her face.

"Soldier's roommate is a magician and you still ask about such things?" Spy slain someone unfortunate enough to be killed with a napkin. At least he worn a particularly well made top hat and even his killer couldn't help but to praise his fashion sense. "Last Halloween, our beloved Russian acquired a truly remarkable costume of princess Anastasia Nikolaevna. He flied on his little, cute, pink wings and danced in his tutu all over the base. Then he promptly forgot what costume was all about and started to impersonate a Russian tooth-fairy. This horrible rendition of a Slavic folklore asked everyone to say a wish. We all thought he was just drunk, so I mentioned that being able to stab people with any object would be nice and a funny trick for parties. Now I am glad, I did not wished for something like _chicks all over me_, as Scout did. He almost drowned in poultry."

A sudden laugh made her miss a target. "I still don't believe you can stab a person with a shoe... What on earth are you wearing?" She gasped as she saw her partner with three hats stacked on his head. He put a pink as hell beanie on hers.

"If I learnt one thing during my stay as an employee of Mr. Blutarch, it would be that only poor and Irish step into the fight without appropriate headwear."

Author's note:

Nobody heard about French mafia, because there isn't such a thing.

Have a dictionary: Bleuet- cornflower, chanceux-lucky, ours- bear, chien- dog

One will be explained in the next chapter and the rest is a reference. References aren't to be pointed out, it takes whole fun, doesn't it?

Also: it may take some time to update next chapter. Mostly because Spy is being an annoying bastard and makes whole story resolve around himself. He's hard to handle, I tell you.


	4. Chapter 4

"You hadn't cared to work hatless for more than a year. You're sure you aren't Irish?"

"At least there is no mistaking about the poor part. You still have blood on your glasses, you know?" He handed her a napkin she gladly accepted.

They were standing in the back alley behind the unfortunate theatre. He still sported towering pile of hats but she lost her pretty beanie. Just ten minutes ago they were in the middle of a joyful fight, when the inevitable glass ceiling broke into thousand pieces.

"HOW DID YOU DARE TO START FIGHTING WITHOUT ME!"

Everyone looked at the man at the center of the room, who was great, half- naked, very Australian and unmistakably Saxon Hale. Spy momentarily dropped whatever innocent object he used to stab people and pulled his boss towards exit.

"What are you doing? I will need to report him on this!"

"There are at least three hundred other people who can do it instead of you." The man uttered under his breath as he tried to dodge mobster's bodies that started to fly all over the room thanks to the ancient power of punching. "Besides, I do not wish to be accused of murdering people that Saxon Hale wanted to hit." This shut her up and they maneuvered out of the place hand in hand.

"Well, so much about trying to get away from work." Spy stated. "All I wanted was a quiet night out, but it looks like one cannot hope to escape what he is meant to do."

"Oh, because you didn't enjoyed it one bit." She said, unable to constrain her smile.

"Only owning to your presence. Truce?" He looked her in the eye with a deadpan expression

"Truce, but you still owe me a drink and proper apology." She said cheekily. "And I'm not going anywhere with a man with a headgear three feet high."

"You are as beautiful as cruel, mademoiselle." Spy muttered as he shove hats into pockets of his suit, conveniently equipped with Hammer space®.

"So where do you usually take girls that you drag into gunfights?" Chin tipped down, she looked at him through her eyelashes.

"Nothing usual would suit you. Let me invite you for a finest meal you could ever hope to dine, Camille."

"Since when are we on the first name basis?"

"We are not, only me. Or do you happen to know my name?"

'Well then just tell me or I will just call you Spy out loud in public."

"That would be a clear breach of our contract and you know it" He mimicked her words and she looked sideways to hide her embarrassment.

He led her through narrow alleys with dwellings just few feet apart, staring at one another with battered, wooden windows. As they stranded from the centre of the city, the glass and steel turned into brick which in turn was replaced by concrete and paper-thin tenement- housing. The streetlights grew more spare and even condominiums' windows didn't offer much lighting. She cringed her nose, when distinctive stink of rot and burned rubber hit her nostrils. Like leaves, the bits of paper and cellophane covered uneven pavement. She wasn't certain anymore, that following BLU Spy was a smart decision. She drew herself up and the man noticed her uneasiness.

"There is nothing to be afraid of. You have a weapon on yourself and I would never think of letting anything to happen to you."

"I'm not scared neither of dark alleys nor you. You fear Administrator too much to try to pull anything."

"That may be true." His expression remained deadly serious and she calmed down.

They arrived at the beaten-up three stores building. Spy opened the door and she stepped into the room which turned out to be a bland diner. She raised her eyebrow. So this is the place that offered the finest meals in the city? All this cigarette smoke must have damaged his taste buds.

He led her to one of the slightly battered tables and promised to be back as soon as he will clear things up with the staff. What was there to clear up, she did not know. She tried to observe the street, but the view of ancient, decayed sofa and two overflowing dumpsters turned out to be too depressing to look at. She resolved to watch her nails, as the Spy's pertractations with employees kept dragging on.

"Bring the owner, she knows me."

Her nails sported a color one traditionally might have called something between eggplant and washed off imperial. However, anyone with a slightest sense of fashion would know it could only be the _Deep commitment to purple_.

"Please choose something from the menu, sir."

"I know you have cheese soup here. And Ms. Carrie owns me a favor."

Two months ago she came up with a brilliant idea to implement new nail polish brand based on paints used for coloring 's hats. It was all too easy for Administrator to establish , a small cosmetic company, as expansion of the TF industries.

"Boss, he wanted to see you."

"Who the hell are you?"

The first five batches were bought out in a matter of hours and women all over States couldn't get enough of these new, fanciful colors. While provision for her concept was more than generous, Administrator kindly reminded her that the notion was her and her alone. Meaning she was the one to answer all of Saxon Hale's anger, were he to find out about unauthorized use of his brand. Well, at least she could cherish her free samples. That is until buff Australian will come barging at her door.

Wait. Did she just hear cheese soup?

"The one who lives above this establishment."

"Who?"

He lived here, although he could afford to rent a whole hotel for himself? The whole situation was getting very informative.

"The one who scared off the muggers the other night."

"Who again? Your name Mister!"

"I am the one who got your dog to the vet the other day and saved Claire from fishkill!"

"I said to tell me your name!"

The mercenary sighted. He took a piece of clothing out of his pocket and drawn it on his head. The moment the woman saw the balaclava, she beamed.

"Oh, the crazy ski mask gentleman! Two plates of our best soup for our guest and his lovely date!"

She growled internally. Not only was she on something of a date with a slimy spy, he treated her to cheese soup! She tried not to look disappointed, when he joyfully put the plates on the table.

"The finest meal in Teufort, as I promised." He looked so pleased with himself, she resigned and decided to give it a try. She dipped the spoon in yellowish blend and brought hot liquid to her lisps.

This must have been the way ambrosia tasted. It was as if every little pleasure she ever experienced came back to her all at once. The smell of freshly brewed coffee. The raspberry ice cream on a particularly hot Sunday. The feel of a silky pillow after twelve hours of work and another two of driving back home. The view of the sea, waves so calm and serene, one could see the sand beneath water, marked with golden strikes of light. Some bastard's reflection on her polished gun. The moment Administrator drinks her water and thus shuts up. Every little thing that made her smile during last month, was back and now they all tasted like cheese.

"How is it possible for a cheeses soup to be this good?" She was still hearing angelic chorus accompanied by a banjo.

"A generous use of secret mix of herbs, I presume. Or opium. It is hard to tell."

BLU Spy watched her with content as she shoved another spoon in her mouth.

"May I ask, how did you know I was BLU? It is quite a feat to tell us apart, when were not in our uniforms."

" Your voices are different. The Red's is a bit lower." Also, the RED spook's loyal to Scout's mother and would never hit on helpless assistants. "What does Cinest mean anyway?"

"Film goer." Spy said it nonchalanly, as he concertrated on his own plate of liquid delicacy.

"Film goer? That's all?" She arched her eyebrow.

"Nothing more."

"You really can't expect a girl not to ask question when she gets in the middle of mafia's attack and great, big, bad mobsters welcome her companion as one of their buddies."

"First my face and now this. It is not my best day."

"Until the end of the night I will probably now your worst childhood nightmares and which of your aunt you hated the most."

"You realize, I like being mysterious? It is what people like in spies: mystery."

"Or maybe you just act mysterious, so others won't find out how dull you are." She pushed her eyeglasses up her nose. "Now finally, tell me about mafia and this film going business or no hats this week and I will make sure to inform your team who can they thank for it." She gave him the sweetest smile and he mimicked her expression, always suave and collected. Save for this twitching eyebrow that is.

"Camille, you are going to get me sacked shall you continue to outdo me in my duties. I thought that spies are supposed to be master blackmailers." He sighted dramatically. "As you guessed, I was a mafia member, the French one to be precise. " He looked at her amused expression and added quickly. "Yes, there is no such thing as French Mafia, I know. Maybe that's the reason our company didn't track it down and let's hope it will stay this way." He looked at her expectantly and she promptly bowed her head in agreement. Processing man's story could wait till tomorrow. When all is said and done, she could simply order a background check on all mercenaries. He may be the best informant they employed, but he wasn't the only one. Still, she wasn't as convincing as she believed herself to be.

"Please, understand. Nobody wants their new employer to know he was engaged in criminal activities. References from Don never look good on ones resume." He seized her up again.

"A Don of nonexistent mafia to boot. Worry not, I will not pry further into this matter." She looked him in the eye in her best attempt to look completely sincere but Spy only smirked. His gaze dropped to the table and he started fiddling with his spoon.

"Well, you are not the only one to write reports. As you probably know, I also write briefings on both teams, as this Red bastard is to lazy to write anything about his band of incompetent imbeciles…" The spoon was now spinning on his middle finger.

"Or he simply deems it unethical to snitch on his teammates." She noticed in a very small voice.

"Regardless! Because of him I have twice as much work. Back to the point: when I said I have to write a report on a whole team, I also have to write one on myself. That includes all of my encounters and what may transpire in witnessed conversations."

She cringed. That awful bastard!

"Don't even try it. And you don't have anything on me." His quiet laugh made frown.

"Really? Correct me if I am wrong, but you used most descriptive words concerning our benevolent administrator today." Brows raised high, he leaned back in his chair.

The nerve of that man! She kicked herself mentally for her stupidity. After working so long for TF Industriess, she should know better than babble nonsense to some self-appointed aligator- Dundee dentists.

" I promise not to say a word about this to anyone." It took all her self-control not to slap him. "Were you really a film geek?"

"More than a geek, I actually attended film school. I was going to spend my life on stage. Unfortunately, the German gentlemen with poor haircut and ridiculous facial hair crushed my dreams of fame and I had to join Mafia in order to survive and my acting skills turned out to be very helpful in my new line of work."

"As in tricking innocent girls into believing you are pulling out alligators' teeth for a living. "

"In my defense, it was not a complete lie. Being a spy can be horribly dull. You mostly code some information about your current workplace, leave it somewhere inconspicuous for a messenger and return to your everyday lethargy until next month. I decided to dabble in something more exciting if only not to fall into dreary routine. I have seen too many of my colleagues became turn cloaks of sheer boredom."

"Luckily you can't complain about that now."

"Not to mention the pay is better and I can do as much surveillance work as I want."

She budged at the sound of the word. It reminded her of this little, stupid advert. As expected, nobody called her back. Well, it could be worse. It still escaped her, how Scout could not notice her advert, right below his own. She quickly asked another question.

"How come you live here, then? Don't you own a mansion in Green Gables?"

"My house got Soldier infested." His expression turned sour. "You remember, how I told you about Heavy and his Tooth-Fairy-wishing business? Soldiers wish was to get a new roommate. Guess who was the lucky guy." He exhaled heavily." Now my house is full of mayonnaise and raccoons. If it wasn't blown up, that is."

"That's terrible. I'm really sorry."

"Don't be, where I live is of no importance."

She didn't know how to respond to his remark and neither of them spoke anything. For few silent minutes she was subjected to BLU Spy's stare. She averted her gaze and glanced at her surrounding but the dreary exterior of the diner made her even more nervous. She saw they were clearly overstaying their welcome, as the look on the waitress face spoke volumes. She turned back to her partner and got caught again in his assessing gaze. The prolonged exposure to his piercing eyes was disconcerting to say the least and she started to feel uncomfortable. When she tried to say something, he suddenly broke the silence.

"You were going to college, Camille?" She blinked. That was unexpected. "Yes, I was going to Radcliff. Just when I graduated the Industries hired me right away. "

"The best education establishment this country has to offer for a finer sex, I see. And you surely exceeded all expectations. " Where was he going with this?

"It is a bit too much to say but I managed to keep on top of things."

"I suspected as much." He rested chin on palms of his hands. "You are truly one of a kind, Camille. Intelligence that could rival a men, self-reliant, strong-willed and exploitive. Not to mention your careless charm."

She felt red ascending her face. "I'm just a boring, normal girl, nothing special, really!" She tried to protest, but he silenced her with a careless wave of his hand.

"While Scout may look as if he tried to court anything wearing a skirt, he does have an eye for female beauty. And you are one of his resurfacing targets. No, you are exceptional. Tell me, how such an exquisite woman can remain without a flock of admirers?"

She moved her finger across surface of a table. It was unexpectedly clean. "You already said it yourself. I am self-reliant and far too smart for my own good. Most of the men fear girls who are brighter than them."

"Fools. The partner, who can correct you in your ways and help amend when one errs, is invaluable."  
She looked at him in a surprise. "I never took you for a humble type."

The corner of his lips twitched upwards. "For I am not and it may be my mistake. However, I'm afraid we must leave this establishment. Our waitress wants us clearly out."

Author' note:

Well, if that chapter wasn't cheesy.

Sorry for the wait, but I practically rewriten this chapter at least two times. And finals. I mean it's just begging of finals, so it may take me at least a month to upload anything, sorry folks.

It kind of angers me, that a story that is supposed to happen during one night consists of four chapters already and there's going to be at least three more. Poop.


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